LIFE CYCLE

A seed from a divine source, the tree it grows into, and the demon that follows.

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THIRTY YEARS AGO, AS THE SUN SET

Prau Sa Pritiya danced. Her chest shivered, her hips swayed—she so stirred the god of hunters that he shook his house of sky.

That night there was a meteor shower: the stars fell, and set the forest afire. That night the god of hunters fell in love with Prau Sa Pritiya.

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STAR SEED

Divine milt. Freshly spilt, it burns hot as a furnace. Any tool forged in its heat comes alive: able to speak and move of their own volition.

After three days the stuff has cooled enough to touch. A star seed fits in the palm of your hand. A fruit with firescale-like skin; glowing flesh inside.

Peel, eat. It is chewy and sweet and seedless. You will give birth to a child, on the next full moon. If you don’t have a womb, this will be fatal.

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THIS EVENING, ON THE MUDDY ROAD

Feet squelching to a six-count rhythm, rung by skin drums. The whole village marches behind a litter: borne by six men, bearing Lady Hind Eye.

Her eyes are two citrines. Her skin is wood. She wears an aureole of antlers. They promenade her now, at rains’ end, so the deer know to start fawning.

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LADY HIND EYE
God of fortune, god of finding, god of deer.

They fell as star seeds. Her sisters were eaten by animals, and became animals themselves. Only she was swallowed by the ground. She became a tree.

The brush surrounding her is littered with antlers. Stags leave them as gifts—thanking their aunt for finding them a mate.

She stands in a niche, carved into her trunk. She does not speak, but always listens; she knows all that happens in the forest. Her niblings are hopeless gossips.

Offering: A bunch of lychees. A fistful of fertilizer.
Blessing: For a day, Lady Hind Eye smiles at any statement you make about her forest that she knows to be true.

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TEN YEARS HENCE, WHERE A FOREST ONCE STOOD

Winged insects swarm your lantern. Cricket song ceases. In its absence you notice a rustling: on the ground, all over; under your feet.

A sting on your ankle. Another. A bite between your toes. You stumble to the nearest rock, try to brush off this assault. This is when you see him.

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THE MAN MADE OF EARTH

When a sacred tree is felled, and a termite nest consumes its stump, that nest eats pulp and grievance and becomes a mound demon.

Mud in the shape of a man. Moves the same way a mountain range does, in animations made to illustrate tectonic shift: geography sped up.

Civilisation is a house built to shelter us from nature, from time. The mound demon’s sole appetite is to bring houses down.

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MOUND DEMON
Hiding, bargaining, sabotaging. Punch (d6). Mud flesh (1 armour). 12 luck.

Light sources become crowded by alate termites whenever a mound demon is nearby. Disintegrates any single piece of worked wood to dust at a touch.

Once per turn: may spit a baby-sized glob of glue as far as a knife throw. If hit you are stuck fast; you will need help and time to get free.

Once per turn: may cover a trunk-wide patch of ground in a bitey mass of soldier termites; d4 damage every turn you end there.

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( Image sources:
https://bctkpd.com/2019/07/24/3335/
https://www.channelnewsasia.com/asia/indonesia-bogor-gong-workshop-dying-craft-3262456
https://amoghavarshaiaskas.in/sambar-deer/
https://mytravelindonesia.com/travel-agency-bali-indonesia/travel-guide/the-significance-of-the-banyan-tree-in-balinese-culture/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macrotermes_carbonarius
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/alarming-sonar-results-show-glaciers-may-be-melting-faster-than-we-expected/
https://warisanpetani.blogspot.com/2018/12/mb-67-busut-jantan.html )